


Some are Snakes, Some are Poisonous

by SpicyWalrus



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Serial Killers, Sexual Content, Symbiotic Relationship, joel also sings a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:07:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyWalrus/pseuds/SpicyWalrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He isn't sure if it's blood or not that puddles on the ground. Not until he hears footsteps behind him.</p>
<p>"<em>Go,</em> Ray. You need to get out of here."</p>
<p> Then he's sure of what it is.</p>
<p>(OR, Joel is an under-the-radar serial killer, Ray is his favorite prey)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> If you can't handle imagining Joel killing people, I don't even know why you're here bbu  
> (made it into a multi chapter fic!!)

Some nights, Ray regrets not buying honey at the trip to the store earlier that day. 'Cause damn, that shit is _tasty._

 

Most nights, he basically regrets meeting a certain type of man who was named a certain name, who indeed had a certain occupation. By "certain", Ray meant that he was absolute guano. Just plain batshit.

 

That man was Joel Heyman.

 

\--

 

Ray looks straight down the alleyway. 

 

It's littered with puddles of dirty water. From afar, lights reflect off of it, delicate in the dark. The sky above is bruised with midnight violets and muddy, yellow clouds from the lights in the city.

 

He isn't sure if it's blood or not that puddles on the ground. Not until he hears footsteps behind him.

 

" _Go,_ Ray. You need to get out of here."

 

Then he's sure of what it is.

 

\--

 

The sky is wide open and Joel wants it to reach out and grab him, shake him and bring something to life. His breath turns to fog in the night air, sticky and cold underneath the layers of a jacket and scarf. It doesn't quite bite, just hangs stagnant beneath a surging and yellow streetlight.

 

He hums a song under his breath, _"Mindset of a killer... with your gaze, you paint the room,"_ and watches Ray pass his window, walking to what's presumed as his lightswitch. 

 

The lights go out, just a lifeless pane that reflects the sky. _"Blood-red, with tears that pour from the stage."_

\--

 

It could be so easy to kill poor Narvaez.

 

To slowly or quickly watch him cut the line of his phone that sits in his apartment since call after call has driven him mad, since the laughing he hears on the other line makes him lock his door and constantly stare out the seeing hole. God, just to hole him up and watch him go mad until he's begging Heyman to help him, already close and open enough that Joel could reach in and crush his heart. Maybe he could keep his nails sharpened to a point and love Ray, take him into his bed and find the right time to pierce the back of his throat and let him drown in his own blood... 

 

No, that didn't fit right enough.

 

Wondering how he'd hide Ray's body, Joel looks around the block for anyone watching him so he can pull a cigarette out of his pocket and light it just to watch the smoke curl into the air. 

 

He never smokes the things, just lets them burn away as he plots and thinks. Most nights he sits on the dirty bed he owns and lets the heavy smell fill the room. Once the smoke starts to plume in small streams, Joel tilts his head an wonders if he would turn Ray into mulch in the humid forest, bury him deep under the dirt to feed the trees; Joel believes he's such a great man that an entirely new plant, some bright flower, might sprout up, and he'd pick them every day and keep them to himself. Perhaps Ray deserved a prettier death than others...

 

Joel could find a sun spot beneath an oak tree and put Ray in a deep, eternal sleep. 

 

Leave him just under the roots and feed his life into a rosebush.

 

Ray liked roses, didn't he..?

 

Joel shrugs and hums contently, taking one drag from in between his fingers, then crushing the cigarette underfoot. Then, he turns in the direction of the corner bar.

\--

 

Turns out, there's a rose that gets put out for drying in Joel's windowsill after his next trip to the store.

 

\--

 

Sometimes, Joel would see Ray at the bar (who usually didn't drink, just sat there to think), and he'd be happy to show his smile again. Unfortunately (or was it fortunately?) over time, Ray began to think that Joel was stalking him. Not the "I love you please lets get married and have kids and five cats named after Star Trek characters" kind of stalker, but the kind that Ray hadn't really heard of. 

 

Ray had become some kind of prized, coveted prey to Joel. 

 

Ergo, a pocket knife was essential for carrying every moment he was and, uh, _wasn't_ around Joel. No matter how much Ray liked the guy, he was dangerous. Very dangerous. It was still hard to believe that they'd become friends for this long-- or, that Ray had lasted this long. In the big picture, Ray found a taboo way to trust the monster and Joel as a whole. Joel worked his habit in a healthy way, at least...

 

Ah, fuck, who the hell was Ray kidding?

 

The next day, Joel sits outside of his complex and looks above at the cloudy, milky haze that could've been blue sky. Cars pass in reverberations against the ground and he closes his eyes to feel himself become a part of it. The ground is cold and feels damp to the touch, yet when he pull his hand up to rub at the wetness on his fingers, it isn't there.

 

A man, bald with a few tattoos and a nice, young face passes him, shorts and a sleeveless gray shirt. He catches Joel's eye, smiling on his way by.

 

When he crosses the street, a loud horn sounds and he jogs faster across the small road. The guy has nice calves; _probably a gym rat,_ Joel thinks and purses his lips and squints his eyes in thought. And with a strong jaw and clear eyes, he's sure the man gets stares often.

 

If only he were tied against a tree and bled out until his lively skin paled and his eyes lost life in Joel's hands. His eyes were such a pretty shade of gray, Joel wonders if he could keep them and feel them in the palms of his hands, just the right weight. He could sell them on the black market-- okay, that thought was interrupted by a laugh. Black market? Bullshit, Joel sighs and smirks.

 

Then he thinks, _If only he wore glasses._

 

 _That would be so much more satisfying._

 

\--

 

It wasn't an _addiction,_ Joel hissed quietly, once upon a time. It was a _need._

 

 _A need like this doesn't need your sympathy. There's no sympathy for a man like me._

 

It still, to this day, rings loud and screaming to be touched inside of Ray's head. Joel, he found, was a monster. A monster with frightened hands and beggar's knees; he was raw and shunning forgiveness whenever it found him. And how, Ray wondered, he could keep such a perfect mask around anyone was beyond him. How tired, dark eyes turned expressive when not gazing down on Ray or a body-- anything that wasn't his prey, he acted around.

 

There was a confluence between Joel and the monster. The beast would arise and stalk in popular areas, places it could be easily caught in. "It loves the thrill," Joel chimes beside Ray at the corner bar this night, not ordering drinks, just sitting and watching Ray's every move. "It wants to keep me going, constantly moving and thinking. Like a low-functioning extrovert. Sort of," Joel sighs.

 

"It stops me from loving. It stops me from getting close..." Ray glances over at the talking man and averts his eyes the second he makes contact with the other's. Ray can hear a guilt-feigned smile in Joel's voice when he says, "I wish I felt bad for myself, but... I just don't. There's no use for it. Not since it all dawned on me, at least." He's spoken slowly, just like he's tried to say it before and yet had nobody to say it to. Nobody but himself.

 

Ray frowns and processes the other's words. It's hard enough to comprehend much of the words he hears with so many shots inside of him, buzzing blood in his ears crystal clear  
and metallic in taste. 

 

Ray looks over at the other, wondering if this man is Joel or changed into the monster at the moment. 

 

"If you ever see me lose myself around anyone important-- to you or me," the man pauses, leaning closer to Ray to keep his voice down in a low, sinister rumble.. "Do anything you want to hold it back. _Anything._ "

 

When he doesn't give his smile that tells Ray he's _Joel_ Joel, just stares with hard eyes through Ray's, he knows. Joel wants to see the blood pounding in his ears pouring from his heart, wants to feel how warm his insides would be in his hands, wants to be a part of him as his skin is stretched out and gently pinned to the wall like an anatomical dissection. The monster, Ray feels, is bubbling up from the settling blood inside of Joel's cold heart.

 

Ray pushes his glasses up and rubs his eyes, elbows on the bar in front of him. "Lllle's go," he says, more so slurs. The world spins when he stands from his chair, almost flips him over but he catches himself. So does Joel, hand on his forearm to lead him through the door.

 

When they get in the car, Ray sinks down into his passenger seat and feels like it could swallow him whole. The streetlights are blurry, _too bright_ and he turns his head away.

 

Joel on the other hand, shifts his eyes from the road to Ray's neck. The beast wants to see the artery spray from a slit right across it painting the gray car interior a mute red, to revel in the feeling of it spilling warm down his neck and over his hands.

 

He sighs, smiles, and starts for Ray's apartment.

 

\--

 

Soon after a few instances where Joel is too tired, too restless and unsteady to hunt for another person, they set up a safety word that could signify when Joel felt he could snap. Or, just seconds before he snapped.

 

So when Ray heard a knock at the door some week later, he was met with brooding eyes of black fire when he opened it. Joel's hair was strewn more than it always was, his breath shuddering in a steady pattern. The instant he opened his mouth, teeth bared, Ray knew what he was going to say.

 

"Red."

 

\--

 

Pale hands shook and tugged at their holders' hair, Ray finding himself watching his friend pace across the small living room, back and forth, back and forth...

 

'Why do you keep coming back here? To _me?_ ' Ray wants to say. Oh so badly he wants to know just why Joel hasn't taken him yet, hasn't ripped him open and stolen his life for himself. Instead it comes out as, "Why do you do this to yourself?"

 

Joel stops mid-turn, stature precise and shoulders hunched.

 

Ray knows he's said something wrong.

Shit, he thinks, slowly backing up a step when the other turns towards him. Joel's face is relaxed, eyes oddly curious when he moves towards Ray. Each step is measured, equally paced and quiet.

 

It's not even a second that passes until Joel's face is right in Ray's, seething and bright with dull rage. Joel's eyes are wide and his voice is low.

 

"To _myself_?" he asks, and Ray licks his suddenly dry lips, breath halted. Here, right in front of him, is the man he knows could snap his neck and Ray would be swiped off the face of the planet without anyone even knowing. "Is that what you think this? _ME?"_ Joel raises his voice, and Ray flinches and backs up into the wall. His heart is racing.

 

"I-I mean-- how do you..." Ray's at a loss for words. "What stopped you from... y'know.. _tonight?"_ he asks cautiously, stepping just on the surface of the cracking ice. He sees the dull face in front of him soften, hears Joel swallow. The shuddering breath slows, Joel feels heavy. There's a drop he feels in his stomach.

 

Then, he sees Joel crack.

 

"Every moment of every hour, Ray, it does. Not. End." The killer whispers, not a voice that Ray knows is always steady around him. This voice, this whisp of breath is balancing on a knife. The knife isn't cutting-- not yet.

 

"But tonight, Ray, it stopped. I _felt it._ This girl, she looked me in the eye. She saw me and smiled," he shakes, voice dropping into a weak shudder. "She saw my demons and understood. I-I waited for her to get off the nightshift, watched her leave and walk down the block to her car..." Joel takes in a breath, hands gripping tight on Ray's shoulders. "But I just _couldn't._ "

 

Brown eyes blink behind their glasses, white noise filling the room as Joel's lips pull into a twitching, toothy smile. Ray's body looses it's tension when the hands slide off his arms, Joel's gaze going blank. "I thought, _maybe she understands."_ The words are gritty, they ring quietly and flat, dampening Ray's nervousness. 

 

He hears Joel laugh, always watching his eyes, his face, the nostrils flare as Joel tilts his head to the side. "No, she can't understand," he hears Joel croak, closes his eyes and flinches at the cold, rough hand that presses flat against the side of his neck. It slides up to his cheek, fingertips chilled behind his ear and the pad of Joel's thumb pulls down on his eyelid, smoothing underneath it.

 

"I wanted to find her, follow her and wrap my hands around her neck like the rest... It'd be so easy," he smiles.

 

Breathing resounds in the tight air, the smell of mildew, sweets and cheap deodorant on Joel's skin. Ray can feel his breath on his face, can hear his heartbeat. Or is that his own?

 

"Only you can understand it, Ray," he hears and opens his eyes, wide with fear, steady with familiar feelings. His breath hitches. "The monster."

 

Ray wants to shake his head, hands twitching in the space between their chests and grips them against the hands now holding his neck, and he wants to scream _no!_ and beg him not to do it. He swears this will be his last few moments. 

 

Joel moves his lips to Ray's ear and presses his thumbs down, breath against it as he hisses slowly:

 

"That's why you need to go."

 

\--

 

It begins with Ray gripping tight onto Joel's hair, watching his teeth bare in rage and throws him to the side. A smack against the wall gets Joel dizzy, slouching in momentary pain against the wall next to the window. The dim backlight makes his figure look dark, barely detailed.

 

This is what the man told him he needed to do, told him _exactly_ that Ray had to do anything he wanted to stop him. So now, in sweat pants and a fucking tank top that's a tiny bit too big and when it's too late to make a noise (God damn him, the super will be up here in seconds if they really do this) without complaints being thrown at  
him, he only hopes he doesn't get stabbed. "Don't fucking touch me," Ray manages, standing ground because yes, Joel won't stop without something fierce right in his face. Ray raises his finger and stares, _pointing_ like it'll keep the monster down and tries to keep it as straight and steady as possible, even if the cracking courage in his chest is turning from fight to flight. 

 

"Listen to me, Joel, this isn't you. You have to stop this cycle." From the other side of the kitchen is the said man, gripping onto the counter and his sulking figure is a shadow, growing as he stands up taller. The whites of his eyes make an odd crescent around his black irises-- _he's a feral animal._

 

The confident adrenaline leaves Ray as he backs away, _defense,_ into the small living room right when the metal of a filet knife scrapes hard against the cheap kitchen counter veneer. "Fuck," Joel laughs, shrill and gravely and his mouth is still plastered with a toothy smile, more of a snarl than anything else. He's menacing in the cold twilight lighting, paleness accentuated further. And damn Ray if he doesn't look demonic.

 

Joel charges, fast and precise at Ray, who catches his wrist with a yelp and lets his two knuckles catch right against Joel's chin. His assailant gasps short and loud, absolutely _howling_ as blood spills from the corner of his mouth. Joel is waving the knife around, spitting on the ground, red contrasting in the dark against his chin. He stumbles over himself in haste and the blade catches Ray's arm. Ray's no time to hold it and feel how deep it is from the blood that trickles out. 

 

Joel, the way he sees the fear in his prey's bared eyes, the puppy face that holds a soul that just needs to be cut loose from the shit Joel's putting him through. It's just been a few months, Joel thinks, and he believes that it's normal for them to be like this; a man degraded in moments to a pulpy mess of fear while he dances on ice that Joel puts under him. 

 

Joel runs for him again and is set on stabbing him right in the chest, arm drawn back and ready. But he's tentative for a split second, impatient to get it over with, giving Ray the perfect second to slip away. Narvaez slides behind him in the time he gets, and the voice re-runs in his head again; _on the ground under the chin and across the chest, across the chest, dont let him touch you, treat him like the animal he feels he is._

 

He does just the same, almost in cold awe at how much bigger Joel is than he as his hand reaches up from behind the man and holds tight against the space underneath Joel's chin. He drops them both, dead weight, against the ground, Ray on his knees and Heyman kicking against the floor, eyes wild and searching around the room. Ray feels trapped with such a wildfire in his hands.

 

"I'm the only one who trusts you with my life so far, so please don't pull this _shit_ on me, Joel," Ray nearly yells, voice cracking from the excitement racing in his chest, thumping fast against his ribcage. Joel can feel it against his back, laboring breath wheezing sharp through bloody teeth and it'll take a while for him to come down from the high he's up on. "I can destroy you, motherfucker, _I know everything!"_

 

Ray may be having a panic attack.

 

Joel's grumbling fast words through those same bloody teeth, grunting and struggling against Ray's hold until his snarl becomes a soft grimace. Ray feels wetness on his fingertips, most likely blood, and tears, too. Poor bastard bit his cheek, at least a good chunk. Joel swallows audibly and shakes violently.

 

Ray shushes him on instinct. Soft and slow as Joel's head falls limp on his chest, eyes still wide and reddened, glossy and frail. His chapped lips are parted and trembling slightly. This isn't what Ray wants to see, no, this isn't what he wants Joel to _have_ to be reduced to. What other choice does he have?

 

Ray holds onto the fact that he'll see another sunrise. Well, with a nasty scar on his arm.

 

It scares him to death.

 

\--

 

Joel's blood is running thin, heavy with guilt. He's dead set on Ray hating him, running away from him, despite the fact that the guy had wiped blood off his face that smeared up to his cheek and told him it was "okay." Ray hums to himself softly (some song Joel's sure he's heard, but just can't remember right now) to keep the needle piercing into his skin over and over less of a focus, eyes not quite fixed on the bathroom cabinets in front of him. They're distant, even if he does feel closer to himself than he has in quite a few weeks. At least the stitches are done, so is the pouring of vodka on his arm. It was the only disinfectant they could really find. Joel sniffles and looks down at the kid in the tub. 

 

Ray can't look Joel in the eyes. He focuses more on the darkened skin around them. The first thing he blocks out from his thoughts is, _They're pretty._

 

 _Really, Ray?_

 

"You need to slow this thing down, man," Ray sighs, chewing on his bottom lip. He clears his throat. "I know you've heard it before but... I don't want you constantly fucking yourself up and adding to your body count. I mean, haven't you ever thought about the cops, well, finding out?" Ray hushes, Joel's face blurred around the edges without his glasses on. The man looks so helpless with his blank eyes. 

 

"I'm only feeding the hollow, Ray, I can't help it." Joel pauses, averting his eyes to close against the fluorescent bathroom light. "I can't explain it. I don't have any shame for it, either. I walk the same way home every night I don't come here, I buy groceries and pay the bills-- Ray, I'm just like everyone else." Joel breathes, in and then slowly out, shaking his head and furrowing his brow.

 

His hand runs down his face. "I've just gotta cater to a different need than you or the next guy. Doesn't that make sense to you?" Joel asks and opens his eyes to look at the younger man beside him. "I'll take it every night until I drown in guilt. And so far, Ray, I don't feel any guilt." 

 

Ray flinches slightly at those words, their bluntness throwing the fact that this man is dangerous and is incapable of being cured in his face. "It couldn't hurt to tr-"

 

"Ray," Joel says, voice with a steady quiver and Ray hesitates to look him in the eye again. 

 

"I can't feel."

 

 _What a great lie, Joel,_ the man screams inside. It burns.

 

It's reassuring enough to let Ray nod softly and get up from his place on the floor. "Well aren't you just brutally honest," he grumbles, more tired than anything. He heads to his  
bed without bidding the other a good night.

 

That doesn't mean he sleeps, of course.

 

\--

 

The next morning, Joel's gone. Ray wakes up early to make sure.

 

For a second, Ray worries where he could've gone. Then, he remembers that Joel isn't reckless.

 

I mean, he _kills people._ And he's _good_ at it, too.

 

Ray decides he regrets getting close with Joel and gets in his shitty car. He drives to somewhere he can watch the sun come up in peace.

 

\--

 

"Please don't kill her," Ray tells Joel, simple and clean a bad night at the bar, both men sipping scotch. It was a bitter celebration. A celebration of, 'It's not what we are, it's what we're not.' 

 

Joel nods, doesn't look over at the other. Ray almost raises his pinky to promise with. Nah, he isn't drunk enough to do that.

 

And to think, he didn't even drink before this asshole came along.

 

\--

 

It rains on a Saturday. It's a humid, room temperature rain. Comfortable enough that Ray decides to sit in the fire escape window and listen to it patter down onto the iron. The smell is pungent, sharp and clean on the back of Ray's tongue.

 

He takes time to think... 

 

Joel only shows up at night, never during the day, never at sunset.

 

Only ever at night.

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (things are getting a little out of hand, Joel thinks)

\--

 

A settling feeling inside of Joel's chest is what he chooses to call the "heavy restless". It's what he feels when his _need_ comes back and he's not steady enough to be precise as always. It happens more often than he'd like to admit. Joel keeps himself in the state of a cave that just won't cave in. Ray's thankful for it, in a way that lets him know that Joel's victims are kept to just twice a month. On the good months, he's shaking with excited dysphoria over being unable to do anything about himself. On bad months, he'll usually get messy (not that he gets the _scene_ messy, just the person) and ends up falling into the hold of Ray's sofa when the guy's not aware of it.

 

Bad nights mean that Ray does. Not. Leave him. Alone. ( _Well, good nights, too, but Joel's nearly erased the line between the two by now._ )

 

It's been a good month so far.

 

Joel surprises Ray on a partly-cloudy, post-rain afternoon. He sits in the windowsill Ray loves and doesn't stir from his cat nap when the door swings open, bags are thumped on the countertop, and the door creaks slowly to a shut. 

 

Ray stands there, brow furrowed, eyes squinted. Adds in a soft "Uh..." to the overall expression, pads quietly over to the sleeping killer. For a second, he wonders if the guy's actually asleep or if he's about to pounce on top of Ray with those every-other-month-nails of his and rip him to shreds. That is, until Ray leans awkwardly into the wall to get a better look at Joel's eyes.

 

They're closed. 

 

His lips are parted just enough, and he looks so _peaceful._ He could look human like this, the knit brows and frequent glares of curiosity, _confusion,_ absent in the waves of rest. Ray kicks himself since he's thinking in a perfect cliche, but seriously; the soft golden light that filters in through distant leaves makes shadow constellations on Joel's face and neck. On his thin shirt lies more spotty shadows until the sill cuts the light off at an angle like an incision across his abdomen and the limp arms leading to bony, laced hands in his lap. And to add to Ray's suspicion hiding beneath his rising awe, Joel's nails are indeed sharpened today.

 

Ray tears his sight away from Joel's fluttering eyelashes and quickly walks to his tiny kitchen, rubbing the lenses of his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

 

"Morning, sunshine," Narvaez smiles, the crooked kind that conjures up when he's hiding his true genuineness. He doesn't waste one second getting that glimpse of confusion on Joel's face when he opens his eyes. It melts away in little time.

 

"Um, good... Afternoon?" Joel yawns and stretches his arms out, shifting comfortable on the sill. His mouth twitches up in the corner. Ray lets out the breath he'd been holding in at that smile. He's safe, at least for now.

 

Ray decides to play a friend card on him, "Is that how you get your dose of sunlight every week? Sneak into my house-- I don't even know _how-_ \- and take a cat nap in the fire escape?"

 

There's a pause, Joel's eyes thinning. His expression bounces back and he nods enthusiastically, "Yeah. Kinda," and pushes up the window all the way. "I mean, being the night-dwelling motherfucker I am." He laughs, a light, huffed sound.

 

Ray's glad to hear that laugh.

 

"Great, Joel. The superintendent should be up my ass about some tall douchebag breaking into my room all the time," Ray drones, raising his eyebrows up a second in his sarcasm. Joel joins in.

 

"I wouldn't doubt it," the elder sighs. "How's your, uh..." Joel gestures vaguely to his arm in a line with his index finger.

 

"Oh! Well," Ray starts, walking nonchalantly over to Joel so he can get a better look at his damage. The cut is scabbing over, but it looks like it's still re-splittable. "Didn't get infected. You really do know how to clean up a nasty cut, that's for sure." He steps back after Joel's slow nod, leaning against the wall separating living room from kitchen.

 

There's a pregnant silence; Ray knows he's going to hear something from the monster.

 

The opening of Joel's mouth is slow, dubious, and the light getting warmer in color from outside leaves a liveliness to his face. It's sublime, surreal.

 

"I killed her." He says.

 

Ray closes his eyes and takes in a breath.

 

His heart has dropped so hard, he could feel it in his legs, trembling like a dead eye on a leaf.

 

"So where do you go from here?" Ray asks, opening his eyes.

 

Joel opens his monster mouth and nothing comes out of it. It closes and he looks of no defeat, lips pursed.

 

"Well where _don't_ you go from here?" Ray semi-repeats, adding an undertone of venom to his chime.

 

"I-...I don't think I know..."

 

" _Yeah?_ " Ray fronts loudly, pointing disdain with his eyes at Joel who looks like he's been grabbed by the collar, "I don't think you know, either," shakes his head and heads for the bathroom.

 

Damnit, Joel, ray thinks, _damn him!_ and restrains himself from hurling his fist into the mirror.

 

Too bad he already did.

 

\--

 

"Get out."

 

Joel leaves on command, of course. His footsteps make Ray reconsider his life for as long as they last. 

 

Ray breaks when the killer leaves. He takes off his glasses and closes the window. Doesn't cry, doesn't yell. 

 

Just considers himself lucky that he has this much to lose.

 

\--

 

Subconsciously befriending people that needed to be saved was Ray's thing. It pissed him off to all extents when he really thought about it. Even more so when Micheal mentioned it to him one night they decided on a round or two of Madden (and more rounds of beer) to chill them both out a little bit. Ray doubted it'd help his mental situation, being attached to a fucking serial killer and all, but Micheal didn't have to know that. No, he _definitely_ didn't need to know that.

 

Micheal was having problems with Gavin, Lindsay didn't understand and wouldn't coddle Micheal due to the fact it was all over his lost memory card to the first Half Life game he ever owned. It wasn't a big deal but hey, classic memory was _valuable_ memory that nobody should take any shit for. According to Micheal, anyway.

 

Ray ended up venting about Heyman.

 

Keeping him anonymous throughout the entire discussion, of course.

 

"He sneaks into my apartment and naps in the windowsill and shit, he's kind of a dick, too," he whines, a string of "fucks"s shooting out of his mouth because _damn, that was almost a touchdown, you piece of shit!_ "And! And he files and sharpens his nails like, every other week? Yeah."

 

"No way-- who the fuck sharpens their nails? Like, to a fucking _point?"_ Micheal laughs, jaw hanging loose at the information he was being fed. His feet kicked against the ground and he let out a high, scratchy, "ooooh!" Ray did the same, both lost in the intensity of the game. "Why didn't you even tell me that earlier?" he adds, more to himself than anything.

 

"He's hard as hell to read, it's so annoying," Ray growls and throws his controller to the side onto the couch in defeat. Micheal does the same and grabs his beer, shuffling on the couch to look at Ray better. He takes a sip. "He's some sort of neurotic freak or something..."

 

Micheal hums and nods, frowning thoughtfully. He takes a rather large gulp of beer, sighs and sets the bottle down. "You know what I think you should do?"

 

"Hmm?" Ray hums and slugs back a long drag from his bottle.

 

"You should fuck him."

 

Ray's thrown into a sputtering fit of beer dripping from his nose, holding his hand to his mouth to suppress the choking. Micheal laughs. It _stings._

 

"He's like forty, Micheal! No! No no no no," he chants and shakes his head vigorously, downing more beer like it'll erase those words from his memory.

 

Then, Micheal just has to say, "So what?" with that stupid face of his.

 

Stupid fucking Micheal. "No!" Ray emphasizes.

 

"Fine, then let me meet him," Jones suggests, smiling in mock hope, leaning forwards.

 

"You don't want to meet him, trust me-- I regret ever even talking to him," Ray quips and laughs. (Well, it was a white lie. Friends do that, right?)

 

"Come on! Why do you always do that?"

 

"Do what exactly?"

 

Micheal widens his eyes and blinks like Narvaez has said something _extremely stupid._ "Uh, vent to me about every little thing about one person down to the time  
they take a piss at noon only to chuck it out the fucking window like you don't expect me to meet the guy?" He raises his hands expectantly. "Yeah, that."

 

"Micheal, I-"

 

" _Raaaay."_

 

"Micheal! I'm serious!" He almost shrieks, a sort of comedic seriousness in his face. It works, because the redhead sighs and backs down. Ray's frame eases and he nurses his beer more.

 

"Okay, okay," Micheal hums, leaning into the arm rest.

 

... 

 

"I still think you should fuck him--"

 

"Come _ON, MICHEAL-"_

 

It was going to be a long night. It was only about time until Micheal actually noticed the stitches in Ray's arm (and here he was, thinking he could hide it in long sleeves until it healed).

 

( _Oh well._ )

\--

 

It's also too bad Micheal's words struck up feelings in Ray's chest. If they didn't, he would have dragged the sleeping beast out of his bed and dropped him on the fire escape to  
freeze.

 

Instead, Ray stared and wondered just what he dreamed about. His eyelids twitched in his sleep and overall he did not look like he was having any pleasant experiences in there. So Ray took the couch instead.

 

\--

 

Joel dreamt of distant drifting, drowning in the middle of the sea, deep blue and silence around him as he watched his last breath bubble to the top of the water, so far, far up there...

 

Then he thought, _Things like that just don't happen to people like me._

 

Cue sequence to another dream.

 

Somewhere between 10 to 2 a.m., and it's snowing; slow, gently floating down onto the grass of muted blues and greens. It's so real that he looks at his hands, checking if it's life or not.

 

By the look of his pinkies missing in a lucid anomaly, he smiles and begins to walk through the whiteness. The one thing he notices in this dream is that he's barefoot, yet the ground feels warm underneath the light powder covering it. There's still the baldcypress that stand high with the greenest leaves, a contrast between the blackening dirt and grass. It's almost like everything's burned, yet life still fights to reach up past the surface of the wreck.

 

Wait...

 

Everything _is_ burned.

 

And sitting there at the dead end of rubble in a perfect, wooden chair, is Ray, and thorns sprout at Joel's feet.

 

Joel curls his lip, and thinks; _damnit, it's always Ray._

 

Behind the man with glasses is a cloud of ashes that swarms up into a violent cloud, until piece by piece Joel sees himself unfold, pale as the snow falling down, down, down... His corneas are black as his irises, eyes just burnt holes in his face, yet they smile at him, gentle and vein-like lines falling from the outer corners and down to his collar. They twist around his body and writhe, falling and disappearing frequently like tears. His copy's body is void of detail, bare and without manhood or hole in his navel. Just ridges of ribs scoring up his sides in angry, raised lines.

 

Joel sees the monster.

 

Ray stands and meets him behind the chair, the black-and-sickly-white imp reaching up his terribly fragile claws to hold Ray's head and bring their foreheads together. Ray's lips pull up into his smile, eyes terrified but mind in awe of the beast he's met, connected, sympathized with so many times.

 

A barren, empty white noise screams all around Joel, and he can't run towards his demon or his Ray, his Ray. 

 

_Oh, god,_ he whispers.

 

Ray and the beast breathe each other in, the lively skin on Narvaez' hands blanching and leaving their color behind on their place that it's bleeding into the monster's neck and face. Meantime passes in pained second as their lips join.

 

Joel screams.

 

\--

 

He gasps harsh, loud and his knees are in his chest the instant he wakes up, heart not pounding but rather skipping rapidly. He hasn't felt this distraught, this alive in so long from such a simple thing as a dream.

 

He gets up and follows the silence out of the hallway, and sees Ray with a half-drunken cup of coffee in his hands, half asleep on the couch.

 

"You were making some pretty weird noises in there," Ray mumbles. A second passes, he turns his head and stares at Joel with all the sleepiness in the world right on his face.

 

Joel disregards the other's words and instead moseys over with his sloping stature to the kitchen."What time is it?" he asks. Ray raises a brow, turning his head not to look at the other man, but just to get his voice through the room better. "It's like, six? Uh... six thirty..?" He guesses.

 

Joel chokes on the mouthful of coffee he swallows and glares daggers when Ray laughs.

 

He ends up shuffling over to the couch to plop down graceful as a newborn faun. It's a little too close to Ray as he'd like, which is only (precisely) about six inches closer than usual. Ray tucks in his legs that are folded on the length of the cushions, toes curling to keep out the morning cold. Joel shifts his eyes to spare moving his head, sliding his foot acrossed the carpet just to make noise in the silence.

 

Another minute passes, maybe only half-- Ray clears his throat in the quiet ringing out and sips his coffee, noticing it's half gone.

 

Joel notices that his jeans are still on. As a matter of fact, he's wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Mahogany long sleeve, dark wash jeans, shitty pilling socks. It still doesn't keep the cold out. Ray's working the same look, too, hair sticking up ridiculously (cutely, Joel dares to think) along the back. He yawns and Joel thinks _again_ that fuck, he is cute in the morning.

 

Then, Joel coughs, almost at the same time Ray does.

 

It was only a matter of time until they crescendo into laughter. 

 

Ray tucked his chin into his chest and wiggled his body closer into the couch's warmth. Joel ran his hand down his face. Thats when they simply started laughing, a snicker at first, that cracked pathetically into wheezing desperation. It wasn't too much of a happy laugh, it could've mocked them both as one, sounding helpless to the throes of surrender.

 

Their heads turned, guilty grins and brows drawn up in a white flag, fading slowly into sad smiles.

 

"I just-... hh, fuck," Joel sighed.

 

Ray nodded, gaze flicking down and back to his coffee.

 

"I know."

 

"It's fucked up. So, so fucked up, Ray..."

 

"Me too," Ray says on instinct, letting the words fall. "Wait-- I mean, yeah it's," he slows to a halt.

 

Joel's nodding and, in a minute like open season, they each have mutual understanding.

 

"We're fucked up," admits Joel.

 

It was just time to take a _shot._

 

So they sit, tense, tired and waiting. But Ray knows what it'll become because his body is already reacting with his mind, already feels the arms that yearn to save reaching for the killer.

 

He sighs and just swings his feet to the floor, standing and padding to the sink. "I'm gonna take a shower," he calls out and Joel hums in response.

 

Joel nibbles his bottom lip, wondering if it feels the same as Ray's teeth would.

 

\--

 

It's sucking the life right out of Joel, this new need he's acquired. It's not a need to kill (no, that's already bad enough alone) but more like a need to see Ray and see his smile.

 

He never knew much about it, the feeling of desperate attachment-- the _romantic_ kind, at least. Mostly because Joel was never one to race. Secondly, it always seemed both hard to let go of and hard to support overtime all at once. Love was a complicated sort of thing. Everyone knew that, right?

 

Soon the repetition gets old inside of Joel's head, so on a foggy night he lets it all slide downhill. Fast. He begins to imagine, to empathize with a phantom dead-end sign on Ray's door.

 

Joel waits for the light to come on as he stands under a streetlight.

 

\--

 

There's a knock on Ray's door and he's not quite sure why he runs to answer it. It doesn't feel like a thing he'd do, just rush to the door without prevail, without much caution. It's late and he's on edge, so there isn't anyone to really blame.

 

He's met with worried, dark eyes.

 

"Joel? Hey, uh, come in," he says at the look of urgency the other man wears.

 

"Thank you," Joel hums. It's probably the first he's heard of that from the killer. The next glance he takes from Joel is of teeth nibbling a trembling lip, searching eyes that flick from one of Ray's to the other, fast as bullets from a gun.

 

The gun is Joel's movement as he twitches his fingers into fists at his sides, sort of just stands there. "Joel..?" inquires the man that adjusts his glasses, Joel's silence weighing heavy on his chest. Before he can speak, Joel's gun fires, and his face is held by two cold, pale hands, and his breath is breathed in. Narvaez freezes, heart pounding in his throat. It feels like his skin is touching burning coals with every short puff of breath he feels against his cheek, the skin of Joel's neck warm on his palms that find their way. 

 

"Ray," Joel croaks, feeling himself shake again.

 

Said man opens his mouth to speak, swallows dry, and opens again. "Yeah, Joel?" he asks just above a whisper.

 

"Please," he hears, deafening silence outlining it tightly, like fading black lines in ink.

 

"Kiss me."

 

Ray lets out a quiet sob of relief and thinks as their lips touch in an exalted press, _thought you'd never ask._ It feels beautiful, melting into memorization that started from the first smear of blood on the Puerto Rican's cheek, each finding the weaknesses in the other inside of a crowned unity. Joel feels the world cave in around him, feels himself fall away, can only keep tangible his and Ray's mingling breath and the hair threading between his fingers.

 

They kiss, slowly, saving the desperation for a time where they aren't this hopeless, don't have this many pieces to pick up, more so _find._ It's the fact that they're the holders of so many secrets, such horror that could spread like a virus-- Ray's abyss of thoughts are ruptured by his lower back pressing against the kitchen counter, instinctively pushing Joel back towards the living room as they surely grow more desperate.

 

From the window spills yellow from the streetlights, making the same constellations on their skins as did to Joel days ago, connecting each other while hands roamed and felt, palms to fingertips expressing a yearning to keep what was theirs. Ray lets Joel take, take what he can get until their hair is strewn and Ray's glasses are a hazard and in danger of themselves from the shirts being stripped off.

 

Joel's shirt goes first, Ray hesitating, hands on the hem, just because he hasn't and _can't_ get enough of Joel's kisses. They're slow, frantic every now and then, but right enough to taste and linger against the feathering brushes and smooth swipes of tongues against the seams of their mouths. Ray feels himself stir inside, a sound that's rather a soft little thing bubbling from in his throat. Joel does the same, shuddering when Ray's hands slide down to meet with his waist, pulling their bodies together to feel linked. It's warm, the meeting of flesh, _human_ and brimming with a delicate irony as Joel's hand fists Ray's hair to pull his head back. He dips down to the stubbled neck before him, marking the soft skin with lavish kisses, some open-mouthed, some chaste. It's when his tongue traces the shell of Ray's ear and breathes a whisp into it does the plethora of noises Ray can make truly start to unfold-- all starting with a halted groan.

 

"I've wanted to kiss you since I caught you in the window sill," Ray admits, dizzying himself with the thump of his head back against the wall to emit a tremulous sigh.

 

Joel bites down on Ray's shoulder, never hard, never too soft, but enough to get the sensation of dull pain mixed in with the pleasure of the moment; it's a reality-check. "The first time I drove you home, Ray," he mumbles into the crook of Ray's shoulder, "The first time I thought I couldn't change my mind on cutting you open, I wanted you helpless in front of me." The words are growled, making Ray shift in his spot against the wall. Joel sweeps his head up to kiss Ray's cheek, up to his temple, then gently caressing the side of his face with his free hand. "But then I found that you were just making me feel normal again, changing me...

 

"I never want you to get hurt- I don't want anybody to _touch you,_ " Joel whimpers, flicking the tip of his tongue across Ray's bottom lip, who darts his own tongue out to taste it. "Nobody but me."

 

On his lips is the sinister taste of possession, every sweep of Joel's wanting to drink down Ray's fear that was tangible on his skin. The torturous feeling that Joel brings onto Ray's body with fingers like snakes down his side, on the back of his neck, everywhere he can feel gives this kind of love a different name, one marred with guilt and whittled to a sharp point. It stabs Ray everywhere it can touch.

 

When Joel presses his palm against the crotch of Ray's cotton draw-strings, he hears a startled gasp. "Joel," the younger says, snatching the wrist to the hand he's not afraid of, but rather knows could make everything go wrong. So in the dark, he looks up with wide eyes. Joel's stare back, tired inside and out. 

 

Silence passes between them, unblinking eyes wandering into depths that speak in tongues, can't ever be comprehended. It's a sick, sick complex, they know it. It churns waves that they're drowning in, predated glances suddenly turned into kisses, touches, lust for more of this connection-- there was so much vexing that came with it, unavoidable, inevitable. And yet, the giving and taking had never been this natural between them before. It was only natural to turn to this, wasn't it.

 

Ray grips Joel's wrist and pushes his hips up against the man's hand. Joel's not particularly familiar with a thing such as this, so he simoly lets the other do as he pleases, slowly moving his hips. With his free hand, he runs his fingers through Joel's hair and kisses him again, again, and again; wondering absently how Joel learned to kiss so well, how to have simple authority with such a thing as a kiss. He did have far more practice than Ray could ever have, more experience in life overall.

 

Soon Ray is herding Joel to the couch, the hand between his legs leaving to grasp his ass and push his hips against the other's. Joel rests himself on the armrest, leaving the lips he kisses for Ray to suck little red marks into the junction between shoulder and neck, the curve he admired and wished to bite down on as Joel snapped his hips into Ray's, heated skin against skin that made him cry out for him to _please, please let me--_

 

Oh, now he was starting to get carried away.

 

\--

 

Ray's underwear was pulled down mid-thigh, Joel's was slung around one ankle and he had a fist around both their cocks that were already leaking onto his hand. Two fingers were already in use, preparing Ray lest he ripped him in two. "C'mon," Ray groaned quietly, raking his nails down Joel's chest-- the anticipation and dull burn was slowly beginning to make him go insane. "I want it, I need it done," he pleaded in a quiet vow.

 

"Ow," he mewled when the fingers left him, an odd and dull burn left behind.

 

In the middle of pressing is cock to Ray's entrance, one thing dawned on him make certain. "I'm clean, you're clean, right?" he murmured, uncurling his hand to slide open up Ray's abdomen, who caught it in his own hand and lifted Joel's pinky to his lips, nipping at the end. He hummed and nodded quickly, slipping the finger past his lips and subsequently biting down on it gently as Joel slipped past the ring of muscle, toes curling, body becoming tense.

 

Gentle hushes soothes the sounds bubbling in Ray's throat, looking surreal with such a clean-shaven face and half-lidded eyes in the night blue light. There wasn't much turning back, so Joel gripped Ray's hip and eased him down until the younger was seated, trembling on his lap. "Feels weird, doesn't it?" Joel hummed, voice soft, cosseting as he pushed his hips up against Ray's bum, earning a slow, shuddering breath.

 

"Thank whoever for saliva, because _fuck_ ," Narvaez started, leaning over Joel with one hand gripping the back of the couch and the other splayed out on beside the mess of black hair on Joel's head. This way the older could bring his lips to Ray's, handle the back of his neck with deft fingers and feel the muscle of his shoulder gently squeezed between his fingers. "Not to mention you cut your fucking nails, too." That made Joel laugh, planting a kiss against Ray's soft neck. He thought Ray's skin to be beautiful, the perfect paler shade of caramel, still a difference between Joel's pale complexion. It tasted just the same, too, and it made Joel want to have more against his lips, more to lap at with his tongue. There was already purple and angry red marks peppering Ray's neck and chest, scoring lines down his back and his thighs-- the same went for Joel's body-- because he couldn't stand not to feel it for one second.

 

Ray was a work of art.

 

He seemed to enjoy the slow movement of Joel's hips, who ended up wondering idly if Ray was a virgin. It wasn't much of a thought, mainly because the kid ground out, "Please move more, you're killing me," and pushed his hips down at a slightly faster pace. 

 

"Ray, I could break you if I go too fast," Joel deadpanned, rubbing his thumb in circles on Ray's hip.

 

Ray scoffed and lowered himself to his elbows besides Joel's head. "You can't break me," he said, all cold challenge to the man below him.

 

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say.

 

(but it was for the better of everything, really.)

 

Joel curled his lip and held tight to Ray's waist, switching their positions so the younger's neck fit against the arm rest, face holding a mildly surprised look. Joel slung a leg over his shoulder, nearly folding the kid in half, and gave a seething bite to Ray's bottom lip as he pushed in and out at an agonizingly perfect pace. 

 

"Oh, _fuck,_ " Ray mouthed in a shaky moan, finding it hard to look away from Joel's eyes, not the dark skin around them, but the endless irises of near black; earlier they were menacing, now they looked wanton, sultry and devoured Ray whole. Joel thrust hard, not so much fast, but ground out every movement to make sure Ray made some sort of noise, whether it be a gasp to a whimper. 

 

Then, Ray started to get into it. Joel was mostly silent, murmuring nothings into Ray's ear as he moved his hips the best he could into every thrust, as his hands roamed to touch Joel's flushed shoulders, his back, ass, anything he could get to. As for Ray, he let a low rumble start at the back of his throat, biting down hard into his bottom lip when Joel wasn't kissing him. "Faster, Joel, come _on,_ " he egged on, digging four perfect crescent dents into Joel's shoulderblades. "I can take it, trust me."

 

Joel took the reassurance and the initiative, shrugging casually and growling against Ray's neck, "Turn over for me."

 

In a normal situation, Ray could've froze up, but now? Now he simply whined quietly at Joel's cock leaving him, and fell to resting his elbows against the couch cushions and arching his back slightly. glancing behind him at the hand pressed against his lower back and the eyes that stared him down with not much more expression that wasn't lust. It broke a small whimper from his lips, biting his tongue at the feeling of Joel snapping his hips forwards, filling Ray's ass at a much odder angle. It was strangely much better but not enough, thought when the movement began Ray couldn't do much more than let Joel bite into his shoulder, his neck, lick up his spine and press lavish kisses along his neck.

 

Ray relished in the feeling of being wanted, added to the cock that slid just against something bright with pleasure inside him, making him choke on his own pleas. "Joel!" he keened, arching up as a string of curses flowed from his mouth, feeling fingers find their way to his lips that his tongue darted out to lick, sucking them in eagerly. He moaned around them, Joel slipping them out and tracing lines down the column of his prey's neck.

 

Ray pleaded, "Joel ple- _nnh!_ Please tell me," and laces his fingers through Joel's on his collar, "how would you kill me?" and ceases to notice the way Joel's thrusts slow for a moment.

 

His mind is vapid with all the possibilities.

 

"I-I," he breathes and shakes, nerves feeling on fire at the thought of just saying something like this, while he's fucking someone- _Ray of all people he wants-_ and letting his darkest secret hang loose in the air Ray breathes. If it helped, he angled his hips a bit, watching the ripple of shock that went through Ray's muscles at the pleasure that could mask the concern he'd surely feel. Maybe it'd help erase his thoughts come morning, just like contraband. "I'd kill you slowly, sedate you and not let you feel much.

 

"I want to make you beautiful even in death," he hums, a moan escaping him, and he hears the other moan a quiet "yes." Joel takes in a breath and grinds deeper into the man beneath him, hands pushing up and out against Ray's back. "I wanted to slit your throat, Ray," he's hesitant, voice a mere whine, "feel how warm your blood is as it paints the inside of your car red."

 

Ray lets out an airy huff, feeling ecstasy bloom inside. "God, yes. _M-more."_

 

A nervous, short laugh bursts from Joel's chest, lips pulling into a sly grin. "I want to dissect you, every single part of you and see how you work." He thrusts a little faster, raking his nails down Ray's chest and elicits a soft cry from his sweet, bitten lips. "I would understand how such a beautiful thing like you could function, your own history in your blood, in the heart that beats, lungs that still inflate as I feel around."

 

Ray wonders if he's crazy for liking the way Heyman tells him these things, the scrape of stubble on his shoulder as the somethings that mean so much are spilled out before him. "Stripping you of moral could be so nice-- I-I could take you to your bed, love you and make you feel so damn _good,_ you'd take my fingers into your mouth so willingly," he murmurs, panting softly as he gets, little by little, more desperate. "It'd only take a little push to pierce the back of your throat and make you-"

 

"Make me drown in my own blood," Ray sighs, a smile quirking at his lips, jaw falling as another delectable sound is drawn out. Joel isn't the least bit taken aback, just moans approvingly into the other's ear.

 

He pulls on one of Ray's nipples, a little hard, just to gauge the hiss that he hears come out of his lips. "Most of all, I want to take you in my arms," he begins, tongue languid against the back of Ray's neck, "and put you into such a deep, deep sleep that you'll never know a better peace, keep you underneath the roots of an oak tree..."

 

Joel opens his eyes, watching Ray's head turn to meet his eyes. He sees an emotion he can't read behind the darkened eyes, flushed cheeks and parted, panting lips. "I could give your life to a rosebush, red like the blood through your veins," he hums. Ray gasps slightly, a delicious tremor running through his body and _fuck_ , his ass tightens around Joel's cock and he begs, "Touch me."

 

A hand wraps itself, tight around Ray's cock, heavy and wet in the older man's hand. It's a familiar feeling and Joel revels in it, thrusts faster, just enough to tug Ray to the edge like he wants him to; not a second is wasted where Ray isn't making some kind of noise or movement. His head is down between his shoulders, hands gripping tight onto the armrest

 

When white hot delight blinds Ray, he pushes back into Joel's thrusts for _more_ and comes more than he has in quite a while. He cries his predator's name, letting it roll off his tongue when he bares his neck, Joel's teeth leaving dark half-circles before his tongue presses against the marks as he, too, comes with a strangled keen. It's warm inside of him, may be the oddest feeling he's ever experienced, and he pants idly, licking his lips again. He finds he can't get Joel's taste off his tongue.

 

Light filters through fog in a chilling fluorescence, Ray turning his head to look at Joel, who has indeed rested his head on Ray's shoulder.

 

"Thank you," Ray whispers. _For keeping me,_ he forgets to add.

 

Those words aren't too familiar. Joel isn't too sure of what he means by them, honestly, just holds his gaze that flicks up to meet the other's. He leans up to kiss Ray again and again until he gently pulls out (Ray's expression is cute when he hides his squeak) and Ray turns around to grab his underwear from his ankles and pull them up over himself.  
After, he kisses Joel at the better angle, lingering and sweet.

 

It was a strangely good, foreign feeling to be the strangled vein of an unforgiving heart. It was only a matter of time until he had fallen for the wrong (or very much right) person, Ray remembers telling himself once.

 

\--

 

Mid-day is merciless, such a time to wake up at with so many Saturday cars buzzing around.

 

Ray opens his eyes and sees the eyes of a many-times-repaired angel closed and unfluttering, giving some solace to their watcher that no, there wasn't any lucid terror behind them.

 

"Thank you, Joel," he whispers softer than a feather, stranded words that went unfinished the night before, "for keeping me here beside you."

 

Fortunately enough, when Ray closed his eyes and buried his face back into his pillow, Joel opened his eyes to make sure Ray's were closed. He couldn't help but smile, eyes drifting back closed.

 

Joel feels as if the world has swallowed him whole, the warmth of another human body that hasn't turned cold bringing comfort so close to him. This new need, he wonders in the back of his head... He decides it's a good thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow that was fUCKed up wasn't it  
> tell me all about it

**Author's Note:**

> yoyoyoyo making this into a multi-chapter thingy  
> i hope i stick to it


End file.
